Here is my rapid reaction to tonight's game. If you live in Portland, and your child is a Golden State Warriors fan, the state should be allowed to take your child and re-educate them, so they don't grow up to be a garbage adult who wears boot-cut jeans over Under Armour sneakers. I know this sounds harsh—but trust me. Literally every kid who went to my elementary school who liked Michael Jordan more than Clyde Drexler now works at a cell phone kiosk in a third-rate mall.

The Warriors are fun. They're fucking fun. That's the mantra I keep repeating to myself. They're a fun basketball team, and they're good for basketball—but it isn't fun when it's happening to you. And when they're chainsawing through your team, it feels like it's happening to you. That's not fun. I wish they were a little bit less "perfect." I wish Steph was uglier, or Steve Kerr was fat, or that Draymond wasn't actually kind of funny, and he actually is kind of funny, and it's fucked up. Fuck.

This was on me. I let myself believe that this Trail Blazer team was tough enough to beat everyone—including the odds, including the reality of the disparity between where these teams are in the development of their destinies. They almost were tough enough, too. And I know it sounds like I'm eulogizing the team when there's still basketball left to be played, but I just saw Steph Curry turn into whatever Kanye sees when he looks in the mirror, and honestly, I could just eulogize the whole NBA right now.

Well, whatever.

At some point I'll calm down enough to enjoy the spectacle that is the Warriors—but even when I do, I'll be happy I'm a Blazer fan. I'll be happy I got to watch Damian Lillard go full John Henry vs. the steam-powered drill in this series. I'll be happy I'm a Blazer fan. Even with Steph's miraculous overtime, and LaMarcus' retreat, and Brandon Roy's knees, and Greg Oden's knees, and the Lakers' fourth quarter, and Michael Jordan's shrug, I'll be happy I'm a Blazer fan.